Page 11 of Loving a Warrior

“Get him out! Get him out!” Awareness returned as strong hands hauled Matt from the pool.

“No!” Terrified he’d failed, Matt struggled against their hold. “I can do it. Let me—”

“Relax, kid. You touched the wall right as you passed out. You made it.”

Matt rolled onto his side, coughing, tears of relief springing to his eyes. He blinked them away, catching a glimpse of Shane’s worried face.

“Hovland! Pay attention, cupcake!”

Shane whipped back toward the instructor who’d just called his name, but he was already being ordered into the surf.

“Get your ass wet and sandy!”

“Hooyah!” Shane sprinted for the ocean as Matt flopped on his back, still gasping for air, his stomach hollow with the feeling he was forgetting something…

“Where the fuck is this man’s swim buddy?”

Oh my God.

Stumbling to his feet, Matt ran to the beach to join Shane, but it was too late. They were dropped for push-ups and combat crawls back and forth across the sand until their elbows and knees were scraped raw.

“You never leave your swim buddy alone,” Salazar raged. “Even if you’re sick. Even if you’re hurt. That’s at the very core of our SEAL ethos—nobody is left behind. You understand me, Knytych?”

“Hooyah!” Matt gasped, choking on the saltwater that surged into his mouth as he lay with his head and shoulders in the water, struggling through some leg lifts.

“Teamwork! Your buddy is part of your team, and where he goes, you go. Got it? On your feet.”

Matt lurched to standing while Salazar got right in his face. “Don’t fail your buddy again. Are we clear?”

“Hooyah.” Matt’s chin sagged to his chest.

“Because now I’m fucking pissed, we’ll go on a nice long run instead of to chow. Pants, boots, T-shirts, then everyone get wet and sandy!”

Matt stumbled along, head down, his dreams all but crumbling into ash right in front of him. Shane led the group, exhorting the others to keep going.

“This is gonna end, guys,” he yelled. “It can’t last forever! Don’t quit!”

A man fell out. Matt almost tripped over him, dodging him at the last minute. Finally Salazar called a halt and released everyone for chow. “They’re gonna close the mess hall in twenty minutes, so you’d better run one of the fastest miles you’ve ever run!”

Guys took off, and Salazar ordered Matt to stay behind, where he regarded him for long minutes. Matt couldn’t hold his gaze.

“You’re better than this,” Salazar said at last. “Rick McMillan is a legend in the teams.”

Matt snapped his head up. “You know my uncle?” he croaked.

“I know of him,” Salazar replied, “and I’ve worked with guys who’ve served with him. This is a small community, son, and I know if Rick’s had any influence in your life that you’re better than this. Teamwork. Attention to detail. Looking out for your buddy. Instead of stepping over that guy who fell out, why didn’t you help him? Why didn’t you show the spirit that Hovland did despite the punishment I dished out to him? That’s what’s gonna get you through this, spirit and teamwork, not focusing on yourself and your failure. Do you understand?”

“Hooyah,” Matt whispered, nauseated by the shame swirling in his gut.

“Now get out of here.”

By the time he reached the mess hall, it was closed, but Elias approached him and held out a banana. Noah brought him a greasy biscuit wrapped in a napkin, and Shane handed him a carton of orange juice.

“Thanks, guys,” Matt managed, fighting back some ridiculous tears.

Noah patted him on the shoulder. “It could’ve been any one of us,” he said quietly. “Today it just happened to be you. We’re all in this together, Soup. Let’s not lose sight of that again.”

How could he have lost sight of that in the first place, especially after what Shane had done for him next to that pool? Like it or not, Shane was his fucking swim buddy, and Matt had better get it together. Fast.